His tiny back was turned towards me, the threadbare blanket swallowing him up to his ears so only messy tufts of black hair could be seen. I watched the rise and fall of each breath, quiet and faint, as if it could slip away if I left him alone for but a moment. Was he asleep? He gave no sign that he knew I was there, or of being aware at all.
My heart sat in the pit of my chest, pounding a slow drumbeat that the entire room seemed to rock to in the wind. The old guitar strained my arms with a weight far beyond its negligible size, setting a cold feeling in me. I nearly left, set the old thing down and left the room, but again I remembered… and I stayed.
The first chord was sour. Strung improperly by hands that had long since gone out of practice, so quiet even I barely heard it. Again I strummed and this time the sound held, nervously suspended in the damp air. I held my breath and watched, waiting to see if the boy would stir, but his breathing stayed steady. Emboldened I played another chord, louder this time and then again louder still. The cabin now sang in harmony, echoing back until each note could be heard and felt like a physical thing. Then, I began to sing. Slow at first, in a voice so low I couldn't hear the words, but as with the chords it soon grew in volume.
The lyrics of the song hummed forth, not piercing the air but blending with it. A story of war, of love and of loss made its way from my lips out into the world and the world held its breath as it listened. My eyes were lowered to the floor as I sang but I swear the walls and ceiling moved in time with me. On the song went, pulling me further from this little house and farther into myself, until I felt almost as if I were the one asleep by the end of the song.
That last note held longer than it should have, grave and mournful, but beautiful in a way only the sound itself could describe.
I turned my attention back to him. He had not moved a muscle but for that same rise and fall of each breath. Even still, although I could not tell how, he seemed more at ease than before, as if that sorrowful song had lulled him deeper into sleep.
Why, of all songs, he liked that one so much, I couldn't dream of understanding. The sight of him now, so peaceful where just hours before he had been so restless, wrenched some part of my heart. I rose from my seat, careful not to make a sound, and made my way to the edge of the bed. His eyes fluttered lightly, something I remembered hearing was a sign of dreams. At least it seemed these were good ones, this time.
"Goodnight, Kid" I said in as loud of a voice as I dared. He shifted slightly, but then laid still once again.
I sighed, and with a twisting feeling somewhere still in my heart, left the room with only the faintest click of the doorknob behind me.
Xx~xX
A/N: I wrote this a little while ago, and way before The Necromancer's Notebook was even a thought in my head. It was a one shot back then between two OC's in an original story, but I thought the theme really fit TNN in a way that wasn't present in the main story yet, so I adapted it slightly to fit TNN and uploaded it as a one-shot. TNN will continue updating soon, I just haven't been writing much recently because of an injury.
As always, thanks for reading.
-D.A Haven